Proddy Does It

Days come and go and the last two (or three) have thus far been uneventful. Things can and do change, however, and for Ru’ien it’s a subtle start — until it hits hard. He’s no idiot either, having lived his life for the majority in a Weyr and seeing for himself the varied flavour of what proddiness does. It takes him a good solid twenty four hours though to clue in that, yes… it’s happening! Kihatsuth shows NO signs, the effects are largely in him. What began as being overly warm or overheating devolved in a gradual stage to a texture fixation (much to the amusement of many). Today’s additional flavour is a slow burning restlessness that has seen him go for a scenic detour after dinner. It’s not so much that but what he finds on his extra-long circuit back to his temporary weyr that has him all but kicking the door down. GOOD EVENING, HONEY! “Maaaatttyyy~ Come see what I founnnnd!” Ru’ien all but crows joyously, half sing-songed, something clutched reverently in his hands even as he roughly elbows the door shut behind him. Ooh, the greenrider better be here or there’s going to a frantic hunt going on! … on second thought, Ru’ien might actually really enjoy that? No, no. Surely his —prey— partner is here, right!?

To say that M’ti had thrown himself body and soul three times over into the housing build, would be an understatement, starting by getting up very early and returning fairly late. He hasn’t outright been avoiding Ru’ien, however neither has he allowed him more than chaste kisses, hugs and some cuddling since that forestry confession. The greenrider was hardly trying to drive his lover into the arms of another, in biological necessity if nothing else, but he’d have been lying to himself if he said he was at all in the mood to celebrate the redefinition of what ‘best friends’ meant with a game of hide the sausage. The change in Ru’ien over the last couple of days, the last twenty-four hours notwithstanding, is plenty enough to keep closer to ‘home’ as it were. M’ti hardly feels inclined to stick to the man like glue, regardless of his personal feelings about the whole F’yr situation, in truth he’d come back early today for no other reason than to keep Touchie M’Feely(™) from coming out there to find him but ultimately putting his hands all over everything. Twitch. Twitch. Dinner come and gone, M’ti takes the breather offered by Ru’s wanderlust to clean up and he’d only just finished setting what he could to rights when he returns. Sigh, just as he was about to sit down and ponder his life choices too. Brows shooting upwards, “What…did you find?” he asks tentatively. Oh, it better not be a small furry woodland creature he has to spend the whole evening chasing down and out.

Small unknown furry woodland creatures being chaotically released into their shared abode is for NEXT TIME! Next cycle. M’ti can rest assured that what Ru’ien brings in today is definitely NOT alive (and is NOT something dead, okay?). He’s practically beside himself in his excitement, giddy and alive with a restless energy that only builds rather than ebbs. Somewhere, Kihatsuth is coiled smugly, not a fleck of brightness to her — yet the influence of her oncoming state is all the more evident in her poor rider. For now though, the storm is still calm, with Ru’ien not yet in the depths of it. “This!” he exclaims, almost stumbling over himself as he balances precariously to kick off his boots and still keep this treasured find in one hand. At last, he bounds over to M’ti’s side in an eerie stride (damn his height, it’s graceful but scary) and foists said object upon him. TA-DA! It’s… wood. Not even great quality, probably impossible to work with and very highly possible to be driftwood or deadwood from somewhere. “It feels amazzzzing~” Of course it does. It looks relatively smooth for something straight from nature, but Ru’ien’s probably stripped it of any undesirables. “The shape too? It just… fits. so. nicely…” It’d be kind of cute, the way he pets it and caresses it between his hands, if it didn’t seem so wrong? And then he’s practically shoving it on the younger greenrider. “Can you make something out of it? I thought it kind of looks runner shaped? I like runners. It’d fit in my hand, y’know? I could carry it everywhere! Like, like…” He spares one hand long enough to snap his fingers. DAMN IT, what’s the word? Where are his thoughts!? “A token?” Is that it? M’ti, help him out here!?

Oh dear Faranth preserve him. M’ti will just have to handle whatever is launched his way, but that wasn’t much different from his typical day to day given whom he was shacked up with. This was just more of the same, jacked up to ten, at least that’s what he tells himself. Nonetheless, the greenrider is as pleased as one can be that what Ru’ien holds isn’t squirmy and bitey, abandoning the couch in favor of meeting the excitable man halfway between it and the door. Cherith is more directly aware of Kihatsuth’s sate of being than M’ti was, but it wasn’t exactly difficult to read the signs and come to the correct conclusion on his own, this time anyway. Ru’ien was chaotic and unpredictable by nature, something that was strangely attractive to Matty, although what was once almost subtle had been amplified many times over. How the greenling managed to still be graceful despite all those arms and legs and wild movements isn’t something that M’ti can comprehend and he doesn’t even try. He’s reserving his brainpower for what is already in play and no doubt that which was coming, taking a quick breath and tensing as what is held. It’s wood and apparently…it feels amazing. “Uh…” he blinks once, peering at the chunk and tilting his head, as if this new perspective might make it more impressive somehow. Proddy driven misconceptions aside, the petting is eyed warily, but before M’ti can even try to liberate it from further molestation and someone gets a nasty splinter? Well, it’s thrust at him and he has little choice but to take it. “Whoa, okay then…” comes muttered, getting a better hold of it before he looks up. Another blink, this one accompanied by a long stare, then, “Ru, I don’t think…” Not that he can get more in edgewise than that, drawing in air enough to fuel a sigh before his lips form a gentle placating smile. Hey, it might not be much, but it’s an improvement over the thinness of them as of late. “A keepsake?” Momento worked too, but he didn’t want to get too fancy with the wording right now. “Sure, let me get my tools and I’ll see what I can do…” He won’t waste any energy trying to get Ru’ien to sit down, instead he turns away and heads to where he keeps his belongings, and soon is parking himself on the couch with everything he needed to make something out that twisted swath of nothing.

“Keepsake! That’s much better,” Ru’ien exhales in relief when M’ti finds the right word! And the moment he agrees to this spur of the moment mini-project? He positively BEAMS and if it were possible, there’d be stars in his eyes. Best. Lover. EVER! “You are amazing!” he breathes and so rapidly that the words all blur together. Grinning from ear to ear, he’ll back off enough to allow Matty to move and gather his stuff. It lasts only a few minutes, as his restlessness sees him puttering about the room, only to bring him back to the couch. Rather, the back of it, where he promptly looms over the poor young greenrider’s shoulder. BEAM! “… can I watch?~” he sing-songs again, playfully, after a heartbeat or two. Ignore the way his fingers curl and flex over the fabric of the couch, by the way! He’s so wrapped up in this LATEST FIND and need that he’s blissfully unaware of how much more he’s putting on M’ti’s shoulder; how the past events of late have seemingly faded away. There is only this and now and Ru’ien is living and breathing the present in a rapidly narrowing gap. His focus is on that scrap wood, on M’ti’s tools, his hands, the work to be done, the anticipation of a finished keepsake piece! Really, he could but the bare minimum of details in and Ru’ien would be over the moons about it (no, seriously, don’t take too long, he might give himself a heart attack).

Mhmming and nodding over word selection, M’ti is surprisingly thankful for the distraction of something else to do other then worry himself sick over the things he can’t fix or change, turning away from that beaming smile to get his tools of course and not because it made his heart ache something awful. No, of course not. Catching that jumbled and airy phrase, he pauses, if just to continue on, “I don’t know about that, but…” Like he said, he would see what he could do. The roll of his woodcrafting tools is unfurled upon the table before him, selecting one by it’s simplistic handle and then he leans back to get to work, well aware of the puttering and most definitely of the hovering. “Do I have a choice?” he asks with remarkable gentleness despite the phrasing, turning his head just enough that he can see the man poised over his shoulder, then to the flexing and curling hands below. That was a new kind of distraction but not one that would facilitate the rapid completion of carvings so much as start to gnaw away at Matty’s seemingly endless patience before too long. He does try but after nicking his fingers a few times one too many times either because Ru’ien has brushed up against him, breathed on his skin or against his ear, or made the leather of the sofa groan too loudly: “Ru,” is spoken with no less affection, “If you want me to get this done, you’re going to have to watch from over there or something.” A chair in the corner is gestured to with a recently suckled finger whose bleeding had subsided, “I can’t concentrate when you’re hanging over me like that…”

"No!" Comes Ru'ien's smart ass response without skipping a beat, a wide, arrogant tilted grin firmly in place. He laughs under his breath, then, not wholly unlike one of Kihatsuth's mannerisms — which definitely cements it, that he's currently becoming her puppet influenced by proddy hormones. To say he's not being a shit disturber is a lie, because he is and definitely in this case with poor Matty trying to humor him and work on the carving. His eyes, bright and keenly narrowed, dart to the suggested corner chair and back to him. They narrow further, a sly smirk taking place of the earlier grin. The couch groans in protest as he leans much of his weight against the back of it, tipping himself forwards just enough to place a not-so chaste kiss — be it his cheek, jawline or lips. Boundary testing! Never mind M'ti is weiling a carving knife right now, but that doesn't stop Ru'ien from even attempting a second helping. It's with a reluctant and heavy sigh that he reins himself in and slides back over the couch (purposely slow because textures), turning to walk towards that very chair. "Here's good?" he asks again, tone dripping in feigned innocence as he turns to give a similar look over his shoulder. Yeah, he's being completely unfair! Upon confirmation, he flops down, sinking leisurely into the cushions and stretching out his long (long) legs. How long does it last? Five minutes? Half an hour? More? Who knows. Ru'ien might even doze off at one point, because he's not superhuman and this amount of energy overdrive is exhausting; but that won't last either and when he's aware and awake again, the symptoms resume.

M’ti is not even remotely surprised by that resounding and instantaneous no, nor that it’s chases by a laugh hauntingly similar to how Kihatsuth felt, and really it just further confirms that the pair was well into experiencing the spiraling insanity that was Proddy. It didn’t even show on the dragon half, but certainly appeared to be tearing its way three times over in the human one, accentuating Ru’ien’s more…colorful… personality traits. Though truth be told? It seemed like if ever there was such a thing as a perfect match, it’d be those two. Unperturbed by the way that the greenling lingered and considered what he’d said, M’ti waits with unwavering patience for him to decide what he was going to do. There wasn’t much of a choice for Ru’ien either, seeing as Matty had no intention of continuing for as long as the man was loitering, tool and wood in hand but certainly not coming together to accomplish anything productive. What M’ti was not expecting was that lean INTO him and for whatever reason he chooses not to duck or push Ru’ien away, letting lips fall where they may, but not for very long despite losing himself briefly in it, “Ru…” he breathes out with the faintest note of warning, denying any further action by pulling away shortly after he’s nearly swept away by one conflicting emotion for the other, “…go sit…” There was still a measure of hurt to be found in his voice, sweeping fingers over the hair that had been disturbed and tucking it back behind his own ear, body a bit tense as he looks down and away. In fact, as Ru’ien finally makes for the seat he had been reassigned to, M’ti settles back into his own for a moment or two just staring off into space before the question asked pulls him back from wherever he’d disappeared to. Looking over, offering another of those thin at best smiles, the greenrider bobs his head once while quietly adding a soft, “Yes, thank you.” Fair or no, with space and silence M’ti gets to work, letting the rest of the world fade away. Little curls of wood fall into his lap with increasing frequency, concentration demanding his full attention, until time slips past him unchecked. He has no idea how long he was at it, only that he doesn’t stop until he’s done, breathing out a sigh as he holds it up the completed carving, “Here you go,” he says, hazel eyes cast his lover’s direction. It’s undoubtedly Kihatsuth, her intricately detailed body a construct of theatrical masks each with their own unique expression interspersed with delicate curls of smoke, the piece itself curled into a shape that would allow it to be worn as a bracelet with some minor modifications.

Ru’ien was already perched on the edge of his chair, legs now bent at the knee, though one has begun an intermittent subtle ‘bounce’, as if impatient. He’s studying himself in the reflection offered by the windowpanes of this temporary weyr and he’s pulled his hair free of the tie. It’s grown out considerably, now reaching a little past his shoulders. It’s an unruly mass of waves, though he’s since combed through it with his fingers to tame it and gather it. He’s muttering to himself, as he shifts it one way and then the other, pursing his lips slightly in thought. Mhm, maybe? No. “… what if I shaved a side of it? …” Oh, the possibilities! Then he hears the magical words and promptly turns to stare sharply at M’ti. His gaze drops to the item in question, hands still gathered up in his hair until he’s abruptly on his feet and bounding over again (really, it’s like two strides at best for him). With his hair tumbling wildly on either side of his face, he looks fever crazed by the time he is reaching for the carved near-bracelet. He looks sufficiently amazed by the detail, fingers already tracing the pattern work in obsessive but adoring strokes. “… this is so much better than a runner…” he breathes, completely besotted by the result. It’s cradled almost tenderly in his hands, as he draws it closer to his chest and it’s left to wonder if Kihatsuth isn’t leaning in heavily on her opinion (why yes, she adores it, how could she not!?). Ru’ien has no idea the words slip past his lips, under his breath and almost incomprehensible… only some of the sentence is remotely discernible. “… not worthless…” It’s addressed to the carved piece but there is a heavily implied personal ‘I am’ lurking there. Blinking, he seems to recall himself and, with the piece still gripped firmly (and cautiously!) in one hand, he’ll move in to gather M’ti into a strong, fierce hug with his other arm. He’s even going to go as far as to attempt to use his greater height and strength to LIFT him up slightly, just so he doesn’t have to stoop as awkwardly to lovingly nuzzle the greenrider. Boundaries are broken again, as he cannot help but shower some appreciation and love (for the carving, for HIM) through more kisses.

It was merely through practice that M’ti was able to shut out any distractions and focus given half a chance, which benefited him particularly well at present, what with Ru’ien unable to sit still. Something about all that perpetual motion suggested that there would come a time in which the greenling would be practically crawling beneath his own skin before everything was said and done. The potential possibility of such, at the very least, gives M’ti a heads up rather than leaving him floundering completely blind. Catching the tail end of the hair fidgeting, brows lift, but he offers neither encouragement or the contrary. While enthralled deep within a Proddy cycle was not the time to be making any sort of alterations, especially the sort that might be heavily steeped in regret once it was over. Knowing Ru’ien as he did? Telling him not to alter his hair right now was as good as handing him a pair of clippers and seating him in front of a mirror. The length though, as it was now and how it might further grow out in the future, all M’ti could do was bite his lower lip and flick his gaze off elsewhere. Ru’ien was already a disturbingly attractive man, but somehow long hair enhanced that for him, though that was merely the greenrider’s personal opinion. Better to redirect them both with the waving of the carving in his hand and announcing its completion. The suddenness of movement proceeding shouldn’t have caught M'ti by surprise, but he startles regardless, nearly dropping Ru’s prize for giving him space enough to finish it. Alleviated of his latest work, Matty’s hands fall away and he watches the greenling turn it over and marvel over the even the smallest of the finer details, “I’m glad you like it,” he replies, offering the first genuine smile in days, the sort infused with his deep affection for him. Kihatsuth’s influence and approval may or may not be noted at this time, but M’ti appears to hone in on what’s spoken instead. Those words and their implication immediately receive a blink and then a furrow, “What?” Yeah, he’s been pretty fond of that word lately, hasn’t he? “…that’s…” Well it’s just not true, his opinion or no, but it’s not like he’s given much of an opportunity to express that point. Not when Ru’ien was moving and pulling him into the sort of embrace that borders precariously on the threat to squeeze the air out of him, his vocal protest muffled and body momentarily rigid. Following, he’s pulled up and allowed the breath he was previously denied, shivering at some of the nuzzling that takes place none too long after, “…Ru…” he exhales, that same note of warning present but hardly as pronounced as it had been before. Clearly, he was losing the battle here, most readily shown in how those kisses begin to be returned with a steadily growing enthusiasm.

What? Ru’ien didn’t say anything and certainly didn’t hear M’ti’s half-spoken response to the thing he definitely did not voice! “Yeah?” he murmurs, after his name is uttered by the younger greenrider. He doesn’t let go entirely, but that crushing embrace does lessen slightly. All so that he can shift positions, drawing him closer and more firmly against the curve of his body. M’ti will feel just how warm Ru’ien is running, a flushed note to his skin already spreading beyond just his neck and cheeks as well. He picks now, of all times, to push at those invisible boundaries set by M’ti and once he’s given just a taste of enthusiasm, well — that’s all he needs. He’ll kiss those lips like a man starved, hungry for more and greedily taking whatever is offered (and more beyond that). By the time he breaks away to draw a shaky breath, his eyes are narrowed and heated, fixated upon M’ti. The carving is still clutched tight in one hand, part of it likely digging into the small of the greenrider’s back, because he refuses to let go of either of them at the moment. “What is it, Matty?” he asks, teasingly, voice gruffer then before but still gentled. He draws one arm back, allowing his hand to come up in an attempt to curl his fingers along the underside of M’ti’s jaw, thumb tracing a little higher over chin and cheek as he follows the contour. He’s trying to behave but there’s no mistaking the desire lurking there, among so much more.

Things that make you go hmmm, for sure. Ru’ien might have gotten away with distracting M’ti here and now, but he certainly wasn’t Proddy himself and there was nothing wrong with his hearing or memory. Whether or not the greenrider chose to ask him about it later— after things had more or less returned to normal— remains to be seen. Presently? Mhmmm, it was getting harder to think, and really had he known that just a taste meant it would be so difficult to stop, M’ti might have decided to stay elsewhere until Kihatsuth was out of season. Not Proddy Ru’ien was surprisingly compliant with his wishes, while Proddy Ru was a little more challenging to handle. This was new territory for M’ti in an already somewhat unfamiliar land, considering Ru’ien remained a mystery to him for the most part, something that was just much the former’s fault as it was the latter. It wasn’t as if he’d exactly pressed him for anything personal, but then again, he wouldn’t be M’ti if he had. “You’re really warm…” he murmured in passing notation between scattered kisses somewhere, inhaling sharply through his nostrils at the very start of that significantly deeper exchange, the surge of desire that follows flat out blanking his brain to anything other than their bodies pressed up against each other and Ru’ien’s mouth; one he partakes of quite hungrily in return. Seeing as he’d been all too easily shifted into whatever position the greenling wanted and then clung to him, it really shouldn’t be a wonder that Matty’s cheeks are flushed nor that he pants lightly past the break between his lips at that kiss’s end, having hardly even notices the bracelet pressed against the small of his back due to— in part— the thicker fall fabric of his tunic. There is an answering echo of longing to be found in the greenrider’s hazel eyes, seemingly entranced by Ru’s blue, the light hold of his jaw and the man’s other arm securing him in place ensures that his heart can be felt thumping quicker and harder against his sternum. For more than a few dozen of those, M’ti says nothing, merely searching his expression and gaze before ashen lashes drift downward, “…take me to bed?” comes in exhale as he wraps his arms around his neck, fingers curling into long auburn hair to draw him back down into a kiss.

“Can’t help it,” Ru’ien murmurs between those kisses, a shadow of a knowing smile curving his lips briefly as M’ti points out the obvious. It also hints that, while he doesn’t go broadcasting it, he’s more aware then he lets on of the source of his worsening state. At that exhaled request, he will blink and in the next beat, his features transform again — this time in a wry, wolfish, grin. “… don’t be afraid to be assertive…” he teases, catching that question to M’ti’s tone. Does he even have to ask? No, he doesn’t. With a throaty laugh, he will lean into one more kiss and then he’s moving to swiftly gather the smaller greenrider up. With his legs over his hips, you bet that Ru’ien’s going to carry them both over to the bed. The night’s events will largely be coloured by exuberance on his part, though at times he will relinquish some control over to M’ti. He’s trying, at least, in the wake of previous revelations. Regardless, they may find a little of what was both needed between themselves and for Ru’ien there will be some peace, for a short spell. Maybe even some SLEEP, of which he is gradually getting less and less as the nights wear on. And as for that newly carved treasure? It will be safely set aside, but later reclaimed to be fussed over when sleep eventually eludes him in the pre-dawn hours and long before he’s due to make an appearance for the day’s work and training.

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